


Chaste

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Dom Hux, sub Kylo [42]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 01:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11369313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Hux offers options.





	Chaste

The problem with being a masochist is knowing when enough is enough, and Kylo definitely hasn’t got that sorted. He knows he’s pushing for more than he can handle, knows he’s frustrating Hux with his insistence that everything is ‘fine’, and that he doesn’t need a word to get out of things. 

Hux still makes him have one, though Kylo is secretly of the opinion that he will never, ever, ever use it, out of nothing but spite and pride. If he uses it he’s _failed_ , somehow, and yes… part of him understands this is ridiculous. He knows, deep down, that there could be a need to stop. A sudden cramp that can’t be borne, a call of nature that would be embarrassing to answer in restraint, or a turn of phrase that somehow… doesn’t… work. 

But he’s also absolutely certain he’d rather die than back down. And he knows - although Hux has never said - that the General would stop if he felt he needed to. That part is more important than anything else, although Kylo would still go ahead with this if he _wasn’t_ reliable enough to not take advantage. 

Which… says more about him than it does about Hux.

Kylo just has no real understanding of his limits, because he’s convinced he has none. It isn’t that they haven’t been reached, he’s _sure._ It’s that there _is not one_. 

Or so he thinks one moment, and the next the fear that courses through him is so overwhelming as to be the only thing he can think about. The fear… the fear of not being good enough… it’s worse than any pain, any torture, any deprivation. The terror that he’ll look up and see _disappointment_ is…

“You’ve been good,” Hux says, though his voice…  


Is it in Kylo’s head, that undercurrent? Is there some slyness there, some dissembling, some… insincerity? Or is it just that the Knight can’t possibly think the praise is real?

He doesn’t know. That’s the scariest part.

“Yes, Master.”  


“And so I will offer you a choice.”  


Choices are bad. Choices. Are. _Bad_. Kylo doesn’t like them at the best of times, which is why his throat is circled in leather and unyielding metal. It’s why he’s there, two breaths behind each order. Hux is supposed to do the choosing _for him_ , because he can’t. 

And to disobey would be to disappoint. He hates being asked to do things he isn’t sure he can manage. He looks pleadingly up, the disobedient fear there before he remembers to be subservient and do as he’s damn well told. 

“Master?”  


“How long has it been since I allowed you to climax?”  


Kylo knows down to the hour. He suddenly can’t talk, the weight of it too much. He’s been in the cage for days, used from every which end. Hux’s cock has bruised his throat and reamed him wide. He’s been filled to bursting with his Master’s seed over, and over, and he’s sure his prostate is so swollen inside that even breathing is massaging it. Right now, there’s a load plugged up in his ass which he’s been told to keep there, and his cock is held right where Hux wants it, wound in circles and penetrated from the tip all the way down with the sound that lets him piss, and strokes him inside. He’s a mess of jangling nerves and heavy balls, and climaxing might not even be that pleasant, really. But it _would_ be release, and then it would be the disappointment of his weakness in needing it.

 _And he also still wants it_. He wants it as much as he doesn’t. The days and hours are badges of pride, but also heavy welts on his person. His frustration fills his mind and body, and he knows the orgasm might be ruined, or uncomfortable, and then it will be over. The _waiting_ is - is - the best, but…

He stammers out the figure, his hair falling to hide his face, to hide his indecision.

“Your balls are starting to look painful,” Hux adds, almost off-handedly. He nudges his boot below them, and Kylo kneels up higher. “So: you can come out of that for the night, but then you will be sent to your quarters and not allowed back in tonight.”  


No! No. He’s normally so torn up after that he _craves_ company. He needs it like air, he needs Hux’s hands, words, eyes. He needs his command, and his touch. The thought of being alone, being sent away like some disposable item… of being… left…

“Or… you can stay in that another night, and you can join me in my bed when I sleep.”  


No climax is worth being alone. Kylo would sooner have his dick removed entirely than live a life without his Master, and the knowledge hits him like a Star Destroyer coming out of hyperspace.

“Master… please, if… if I may choose, I… I would… I would choose you.” You. Your hands. Your slices of pain. Your soft fingers in my hair. Your sharp words. Your cock pressing into me, taking pleasure I can feel in the Force. Your approval, your affection, your love. You.  


He’s ready to beg, his shoulders pulled tight behind him as he tries to kneel proudly owned, to keep his eyes averted, but show he’s ready to serve. 

“Good boy,” Hux purrs, his voice like the hum of a cannon, readying to fire. His hands move to his own belt, and he pulls open his pants.   


Kylo knows what comes next, and he shuffles closer, his eyes closing as he opens his mouth just enough for Hux to slide over his tongue, and into his throat. He doesn’t go slow any more, he just expects his pet to take it. 

And take it. And take it. 

Kylo gazes adoringly up, and he wonders if Hux knows just how much he loves him? Does he? Does he know he’d do anything - anything - even if he was sure he couldn’t?

He hopes so. The General has never taken another lover that Kylo has ever known of, and he’s sure he’s the only one to ever grace his pillows. He hopes he knows how much it means to his devoted slave, and it’s more than any orgasm ever could deliver. 

Kylo loves his Master, and he cries at the weight of the feeling as his throat is fucked raw. He cries, and is in love. 


End file.
